Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy
by FireOpal
Summary: “Tell me Macleod, did no one ever tell you to knock?” “What?” Duncan asked in mock surprise. “This isn’t a free concert? And there I was thinking of getting you a manager... DMM fluff with slight songfic.


**Disclaimer** – None of it's mine, or 'The Source' would be Duncan/Methos ALL THE WAY. :D The song definitely doesn't belong to me, but that fantastic rock band Queen. 

**Summary - **"Tell me Macleod," he asked casually, dropping the hairbrush behind him onto the sofa. "Did no-one ever tell you to knock?" "What?" Duncan asked in mock-surprise. "This isn't a free concert?" He shook his head sadly. "And there I was thinking of getting you a manager…"

**Notes** – Yes, it's me again. Apologies that I'm not doing anything useful, but don't blame me – blame Mr Newlands' Physics lessons for both this and the equally slashy 'All's Fair'. It's all his lessons' fault. OK, so, we've disclaimered, summarised… -thinks- I think that's about it.  
By the way, is it lame that I just spent a week in Greece on a school trip, and ALL the way round I was imagining our favourite duo there? -thinks- Hmmm... I see ficabilities... :D  
Enjoy!  
Oh yes, and this fic is dedicated to Katy, who helps me act this song out in Biology, and laughed at me all the time. Wait, she always laughs at me. I really really hope it's in jest.  
If it isn't, then this isn't dedicated to her.

* * *

**Good Old-Fashioned Lover-Boy**

Methos sighed as he surveyed his apartment. Typical. Five thousand years, and tidying up was **still** one of the most annoying chores in existence. Not that long ago, and a click of his fingers would bring a slave to his side to immediately clean the pots, take out the rubbish and dust. He grinned a little in remembrance. Ah, the good old days.

Still, he thought optimistically as he crossed the frankly messy living room, at least he didn't have to do it without a little fun. He found the appropriate CD in his long collection, slipped it into the player and hit 'play', remembering to notch up the volume a little. It launched straight into the song, and, as he picked up the hairbrush lying nonchalantly on his coffee table, he burst into a croon.

"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things," he sang, jumping over a discarded sweater on the floor and gesturing heaven-ward, roughly where the lights were. "We can do the tango just for two."

Moving around the annoyingly-placed sofa, he mimed a dance. As a sudden leap of initiative, he grabbed the coat stand and danced with it.

"I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings," he sang to the coat stand, expertly dipping it whilst still singing into his 'microphone'. "Be your Valentino just for you…"

As he leapt into the chorus, he discarded the stand and swayed from side to side, using both hands to hold the hairbrush as he sashayed across the floor. "Ooh, love, ooh, lover-boy… What you doin' tonight? – Hey boy."

"Set my alarm, turn on my charm," he flashed a winning grin at a handy wall mirror and winked playfully at himself. "That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover-boy…"

"Oooh," he crooned, placing his hand over his heart and fluttering it to mime a heartbeat. "Let me feel your heartbeat grow faster, faster. Ooh, can you feel my love heat? Come on and sit on my hot seat of love and tell me how do you feel right after all…"

"I'd like for you and I," he gestured at the proverbial victim in front of him, a smirk hitting his lips as he imagined it, "to go romancing…"

He fell to one knee, the epitome of chivalry, flinging his arms out generously. "Say the word – your wish is my command!"

Methos leapt back to his feet in perfect time for the chorus. "Ooh, love, ooh, lover-boy… What you doin' tonight? Hey boy…" He cast a smouldering look over his shoulder at the mirror he was currently stepping away from.

"Write my letter," he grinned wickedly, "feel much better,"

He turned swiftly and leapt for the phone, switching the hairbrush for the handset as he finished, "Use my fancy patter on the telephone."

The music slowed in perfect time with his movements - the Old Man having had long years of practice - so he used the time to move back over to the sofa and lounged seductively over the back, catlike.

"When I'm not with you, think of you always – I miss you," he sang over the backing chorus, placing his hand over his heart and doing his best doe-eyed expression, eyelashes fluttering.

"When I'm not with you, think of me always… I love you, love you…" he straightened suddenly and turned back to the mirror, swaggering his hips to the beat as he sang to himself.

"Hey boy, where did you get it from? Hey boy where did you go?" he interrogated himself.

He struck a suitably distinguished pose, hand on heart. "I leant my passion at the good old-fashioned school of lover-boys!"

Methos turned and froze as he spotted the grinning face of his best friend. The music was so loud it had obviously masked the Presence, so he was stood, barefoot, hairbrush in hand, music playing, his expression identical to a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

"Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely," Duncan took over with a pleasant baritone, walking over and holding up his fingers as they counted. "I will pay the bill," he gestured at Methos, "you taste the wine."

"Driving back in style in my saloon will do quite nicely – just take me back to yours that will be fine," he winked at the still-confused Immortal. "Come and get it."

"Ohh, love, ooh, lover-boy," he continued, grinning wickedly. "What you doin' tonight? Hey boy," he snapped his fingers at Methos' frozen expression.

"Everything's all right, just hold on tight – that's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover-boy," he finished dramatically, as if awaiting applause. Catching himself finally, Methos clapped his hands a few times.

"Tell me Macleod," he asked casually, dropping the hairbrush behind him onto the sofa. "Did no-one ever tell you to knock?"

"What?" Duncan asked in mock-surprise. "This isn't a free concert?" He shook his head sadly. "And there I was thinking of getting you a manager…"

"This is my apartment, **not** a free concert, if you **hadn't** noticed…" he replied sarcastically, though his eyes were lit-up in humour.

"Well, I had noticed that – but the singing and acting completely enchanted me," Macleod said innocently. "I just couldn't help but join in. Plus, of course, I just had to take a photo," he pulled a camera out of his pocket and waved it.

Leaping forwards, the Oldest Man grabbed for the camera, but missed.

"Tut tut," Duncan continued teasingly, moving it out of Methos' reach. "If you want this, you'll have to pay for it."

"Oh? And how do I do that?" Methos asked, scowling. He could just imagine having to sit and put up with the ruddy Scot laughing over this for weeks, and, knowing the Highlander, he would tell Joe too. Both of them. At once. He shuddered.

"Well, I can think of something…" he grinned wickedly, before catching the surprised Immortal on the lips. "How about we do as you suggested? Wining, dining, romancing… After all – you did say my wish is your command."

"Well then," Methos replied, recovering. "I guess I'll just have to show you exactly how a good old-fashioned lover boy really does it, then."

Duncan grinned and extended his arm. Methos took it, the perfect example of good etiquette. Then, without warning, Methos reached up and returned the kiss.

"I'll grab my shoes and a jacket if you make the reservations," he stated, gesturing towards the telephone. "Don't forget, Macleod, you promised me the Ritz."

"Some 'lover-boy'," Duncan muttered, just loud enough to be heard. Methos grinned.

"Ah, but I'm the true 'old-fashioned' lover-boy," he reminded Duncan, tapping his arm as he went into his bedroom. "We prefer the pampering to be all on us."

"I'll have to see what I can do then," Duncan called back with a grin. Then, moving across the room, he snorted as he turned off 'Somebody to Love', and grabbed the telephone. He had reservations to make.


End file.
